A Slice of Dominion's
by Prophetic Fire
Summary: Set in the Deep Dish Nine AU which originated on tumblr. This aims to be a collection of one-shots illustrating the amusing goings-on of Deep Dish Nine's arch-rival, Dominion's Pizza. Two stories so far, plus a holiday bonus scene! More to come.
1. Portraits

**AN: This is written for the delightful Deep Space Nine AU, Deep **_**Dish**_** Nine, which originated on tumblr (go check it out at deep-dish-nine dot tumblr dot com). The basic premise is that DS9 the station is now DD9 the pizza joint, on Earth, approximately now-ish and not in the future, where everyone is human. Different species have now become different ethnicities, and everyone does something vaguely analogous to their canonical job (e.g. Sisko runs the joint, O'Brien fixes everything, Julian is a med student, etc.). Deep Dish Nine's rival is ********Dominion's Drugs—PIZZA**** (run by the mysterious Founder; Dukat manages the chain closest to Deep Dish Nine). Since most of the lovely fic already written is centered around Deep Dish Nine, and since I have an overwhelming love for Dukat and Damar (and Garak, and basically Cardassians in general, but whatever), I thought I would write a bit from the Dominion's side of things.**

**In this particular story, Dukat finds his daughter's artwork a bit unusual. (Some of the art described here I just made up, and some of it I based on existing DD9 stories, but most of it actually exists on the DD9 tumblr, and it's fabulous and amazing.)**

A Slice of Dominion's  
Part One: Portraits

"Ziyal, I'm concerned about these pictures."

Dukat sat in the living room of his posh Cardassia Heights home, his daughter beside him. The spring sun streamed through the tall windows, thrown open to welcome the fresh and inviting outside air. Birds sang their cheerful songs, somewhere in the distance a child was laughing, and a sweet smell drifted from the kitchen, where the housekeeper was—on Dukat's orders—preparing a special lunch. The smile on Ziyal's face announced that it was a very pleasant day indeed.

Dukat was not happy.

When he'd heard the news that his daughter would be coming home from the university for the weekend, Dukat could not have been more pleased. Throw open the doors, he'd said, tie back the curtains, this house has been shut up for far too long. Make it sparkle from top to bottom. I want it to shine for my daughter! She deserves nothing but the best—and make her something wonderful to eat while you're at it. Whatever they're feeding her at school _must_ be _appalling_. Dukat had hoped, secretly, that this show of dotage and generosity would convince Ziyal to return home for good. The dorms were no place for a fine young lady such as herself, and she visited far less often than Dukat would have liked.

Yet now, with Ziyal seated on the sofa beside him, her final term project spread out before them on the coffee table, the warm welcome he'd so carefully prepared seemed to turn to stone in his stomach. Just _what_ was he looking at, anyway? What were they teaching at this school?

Ziyal's smile melted at Dukat's words. She picked up a drawing and studied it, her brows knit together as though she were trying to understand just what it was that was objectionable about it. "I don't understand, Father," she said. "They're not finished yet, but . . . you've never been worried about my assignments before. They're not due for another three weeks. These are only drafts."

Dukat pursed his lips, thought of a different way to approach the issue. "Tell me more about the assignment."

Ziyal straightened her posture, placing the picture back on the coffee table with the rest of the collection. "Well," she began, in a tone that suggested she'd had to explain this on more than one occasion, "we're supposed to take something ordinary, some slice of life we see every day, and represent it in a style that's both outside of what we normally do and compliments the situation." A small hint of a smile crept back into Ziyal's face as she studied the drawings. "Finding the material was the easy part. It's been working with the complimentary style that's been the most challenging. I know they're different, but . . . do you think they're good?"

They _were_ good. They were very, very good. Dukat was having trouble finding a single flaw in the execution of pencil to paper, of brush stroke or of color or of proportion. His daughter was a marvel of artistic excellence; he would argue into the ground anyone who even suggested otherwise. But, as he examined picture after picture, he began to think that perhaps she needed to be removed from the university's environment after all, if _this _was what she thought was commonplace.

. . . four faces: himself, Ziyal, Damar, and that insufferable tailor _Garak_ of all people . . .

. . . himself, standing smugly as Damar cast him a murderous look from behind his Dominion's clipboard . . .

. . . Garak again, and Weyoun, who was apparently the "employee of the month—forever" . . .

. . . Garak _again_, and that med student plaything of his, sipping coffee and _wrapped in a scarf?_ . . .

. . . himself, staring over the counter of Deep Dish Nine at cashier Kira Nerys . . .

. . . himself, leering over the counter of Deep Dish Nine at Kira Nerys, while Ziyal looked on and that Dax girl gave him the evil eye . . .

. . . Nerys again, holding out a "special delivery for Mr. Dukat" which had FUK U spelled out in pepperoni . . .

. . . Garak again, modeling some ostentatious coat . . .

. . . himself, sitting at Deep Dish Nine and looking furious as that Klingon stared him down from behind the counter . . .

. . . himself, leaning over the register of Deep Dish Nine to slip Nerys a business card with his personal phone number scrawled across the back . . .

. . . himself, eating a slice of pizza while seductively staring at Nerys . . .

. . . Ziyal, handing out cards apologizing for some lecherous behavior on his behalf . . .

And the style . . . what had she said about the style? Something that compliments the situation? Dukat scanned the drawings again, trying to see past the subject matter. Well-executed as it was, the style Ziyal had chosen for her artwork—especially the drawings of him—was . . . _comical_.

Dukat opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it. Opened it again, closed it and pursed his lips. He tilted his head slightly, considering, and looked up when he felt Ziyal's expectant gaze upon him.

"Well, Father?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you _think_?"

Dukat sidestepped the question again. "You mentioned these are going to be displayed in the campus gallery at the end of term?"

Ziyal beamed with excitement. "Yes, most of them. All of the junior art students get gallery space this semester."

"Ah."

Dukat returned his gaze to the drawings. The tilt of his head, the exaggerated stretch of his smile, the undeniably disturbing gleam in his eye . . . Was this really how he appeared to others? As some sort of comic book villain? No _wonder_ Nerys snarled at him every time he tried to charm her out of a slice of pizza and possibly more. He would have to definitely up his game. Perhaps he could take a page out of that insufferable tailor's book after all; the man was indisputably suave. And perhaps he should thank his daughter for bringing the situation to his attention, and not mention just how utterly disagreeable he found her theme. And why couldn't she just paint more _flowers_, for goodness' sake?

". . . Yes, Ziyal. They're very, very good."


	2. Boxes

**AN: This was inspired by yet another picture on the Deep Dish Nine tumblr. In this story, Damar has a problem with the store. And dealing with Weyoun is never easy.**

A Slice of Dominion's  
Part Two: Boxes

"Dominion's corporate office, Alpha City district, Weyoun speaking."

"Weyoun. It's Damar."

"Damaaaar! What a pleasant surprise! How are you? How is the home brewing going?"

". . . It's fine."

"That's wonderful! I'm glad to hear it. Are you experimenting with any new flavors this time?"

". . . No."

"I see. So, Damar, how may I assist you today?"

"We may have a problem."

"Oh? What kind of problem? I trust it isn't _too_ serious?"

"I don't know. The First on shift called me in to look at it. If it is what he says it is, it's a problem. I'm on my way over to the store now. I'll call you back when I get there to let you know what I find."

"I await your call with the utmost anticipation."

". . . Okay."

* * *

"Dominion's corporate office, Alpha City district, Weyoun speaking."

"Weyoun. It's Damar."

"Damaaaar! How wonderful to hear your voice again! Did you have a pleasant drive?"

". . . Yes."

"Gooood! So, tell me, what did you find?"

"It's the pizza boxes. We have a problem with the pizza boxes."

"The pizza boxes? Oh, Damar! You had me worried there! I had thought it was going to be something _much_ more problematic."

"It _is_ a problem. They're . . . not the right ones."

"What do you mean, they're not the right ones?"

"They're not the right ones."

"Isn't this something the manager of your store should be handling?"

"Dukat? _Pfft_. I tried telling him. He laughed."

"Oh I see. Well, exactly _how_ are your pizza boxes not the right ones?"

"Perhaps you'd better come down here and see for yourself."

"It's that serious, is it? Oh, very well then. I'll be there shortly."

* * *

"Hello, this is Damar."

"Damaaaar! How kind of you to answer so promptly."

"Weyoun. Where are you? I thought you were coming to the store."

"Oh. That. Yes. Well, you see . . . I seem to have misplaced my wallet. I had it getting off the last train, but there were so many people, and I was jostled about quite a bit, and the train doesn't go all the way to Cardassia Heights, and you see now I have no money for the bus—"

"You were _mugged_?"

"Don't be ridiculous—"

"Do you need me to come and _get_ you?"

"Oh, would you? I would be ever so grateful!"

". . . Fine. Stay where you are. I'll be there soon."

* * *

"Get in."

"Damaaaa—"

"Just get in."

"My, my. Touchy today, aren't we?"

". . ."

"Well then."

". . ."

". . ."

". . ."

"Why don't we turn on a little music—"

"—Don't touch my radio—"

"—to keep the silence at bay, shall we?"

"—_Red, the blood of angry men!  
__Black, the dark of ages past!  
__Red, a world about to dawn!  
__Black, the night that ends at—_"

"I said, _don't _touch my radio."

". . . Oh. Oh dear . . . I do apologize . . . Was that a . . . musical?"

". . ."

"I see."

". . ."

" Was that _Les Misérables_? You know, I've never listened to it in its entirety, but I hear it's _very _good."

". . ."

"Yes, well . . ."

". . ."

". . ."

". . ."

"This is a fine car you have, Damar. It's very sleek. You know, I always thought of you as an SUV sort of fellow. This seems almost too . . . refined, for you. Oh, please don't take that the wrong way."

"Mmh. I guess you were wrong then."

"Yes, I suppose I was . . ."

". . ."

". . ."

". . ."

"How many Jem'Hadar are on shift today?"

"Four."

"Four! Damar, don't you think that's a little excessive? If you keep scheduling like that, I won't have enough ketracel-white to pay them all."

"The warehouse shipment comes in today. It was necessary."

"Damar, how many times have I told you? You only need the bare minimum of pizza supplies; there's no need to overstock for something there is hardly a demand for."

"Weyoun, the only reason your white-smuggling racket is so successful here is because my store sells enough pizza to keep the cops from proving anything."

"_Your_ store?"

"You and I both know that Dukat is only the manager because the manager gets business cards. I'm the one who runs it. I'm the one who makes sure your deliveries go out, on time, to the right people. And when Dukat comes in and actually _does _something . . . we have a problem with the pizza boxes."

"You and Dukat used to be so close. It's heartbreaking for me to see you so upset, Damar."

"Is it."

"Truly, it is."

". . ."

". . . This trip is much longer than I remember."

* * *

"Damar, sir, you have returned. Sir we have a problem."

"Yes, I know, Second. Where are First, Third and Fourth?"

"Third went home sick. First and Fourth are in the back."

"With the pizza boxes?"

"Yes sir, but—"

"Good. Weyoun, if you'll follow me."

* * *

"Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear. This _is_ a problem."

"I assure you, Weyoun, this was not the original problem. You can clearly _see_ the original problem underneath . . ."

"Yes Damar, I see what you mean. But why write over it?"

"Damar, sir, I would like to point out—"

"Not now, Second. First! Can you explain this to me? WHAT happened here?"

"Yes, gentlemen, please be kind enough to tell Damar and I what went on."

"I thought we would take initiative to fix the problem—"

"I told them not to, but he is the First on shift—"

"And if I had not done something, the boxes would still be piled in the lobby—"

"Better that than to have made this error—"

"Enough! Gentlemen, please . . . I know you new hires from Alpha City are eager to prove yourselves, but let's not let this new position go to our heads, now, shall we? Damar, who made this one First?"

"Dukat."

"Ah. Fire this one. Promote the Second. Now, about this problem . . ."

"Which problem? The original problem? I didn't order these boxes, Weyoun. I told you before, Dukat placed the orders this week."

"Yes, yes, I . . . well . . . _hee . . ._"

"I know you have poor eyesight, but you can clearly see that this box says 'Dominion's _Drugs_' on it, and not 'Dominion's _Pizza_', can't you?"

"Yes Damar, I can see that . . . _teehee_ . . ."

"And about the new problem."

"Yes, your employees have gone and . . . _hehehe . . ._"

"Gone and crossed out 'Drugs' and _written_ 'PIZZA' on the box instead!"

"With red spray paint no less!"

"Weyoun are you . . . are you _laughing _at this?"

". . . _heeeheeeheee_ . . . Well, you must admit . . . 'Dominion's Drugs—PIZZA' . . . _ohhhohohoh . . . _it is . . . _heh heh heh _. . . rather ridiculous . . . _BAAAHAHAHAHAHA!"_

". . ."

* * *

"Sir? Sir what happened to Weyoun?"

"I gave him some bus fare and sent him back to his office. What do you need, Fourth?"

"Damar sir, I would ask Second—er, First, now, sir, but he is out front helping a customer."

"Just ask your question, Fourth. If I have to spend one more minute here on my day off . . ."

"Damar sir, what shall I do with these new boxes?"

"I suppose we'll have to throw them away."

"Yes, sir. Sir, I know it is not my place to question an order, but . . ."

"_What_, Fourth?"

"Damar sir, these are all of the boxes we have. The last six of the previous boxes are out front, waiting to be used. We have no replacement boxes."

". . ."

"Sir? What shall I do with these boxes, sir?"

"Use them. Use them. We'll just use them. How many boxes do we have?"

". . . Four hundred, sir."


	3. Bonus! The Dominion's Holiday Party

**AN: Since it's Christmas/Yule/the holiday season, I decided to write this little interlude. References are made to it being winter, as it seems to be the general consensus that the world of Deep Dish 9 and Alpha City are somewhere in "North America". (I apologize to any and all Southern Hemisphere readers who may be upset by this . . .) I hope you find it as delightful to read as I did to write. Merry Christmas, happy Solstice, and a happy new year!**

Bonus Scene!  
The Dominion's Holiday Party

"I have a present for you," Ziyal said.

It was late in the holiday party. The pot luck had been a surprising success. In addition to the pizzas that New First, Third and Fourth had made, there had been grilled vegetable kabobs brought by Damar, a crock of smoked mini sausages in barbecue sauce, also brought by Damar, a platter of almond tea cakes that Ziyal and her father had baked, and a curious tray of burnt lumps which might have been cookies at one point, but were now far beyond salvaging. No one had wanted to disrupt the proud beam on Weyoun's face when he had brought them in, though. After dinner, they had all gathered around the break room table, drinking perhaps too much eggnog and sharing stories of the store. Even the Founder had shown up; she stood in the far corner of the break room, quietly observing the festivities. After a time, Ziyal had gotten up and bounded over to the Christmas tree, under which she had stashed her messenger bag. She returned to stand in front of the group, hands behind her back, hiding something.

"If you recall, a while back I put a box back here in the break room and asked all the staff to submit things about Christmas: poems, stories, thoughts, that kind of stuff. Well, for my winter term project I took all those, and I illustrated a bunch of them, and I made a book!" She drew her hands out from behind her back and proudly presented a slim, hardbound book with the Dominion's Pizza logo on the front. The logo was covered in Christmas lights, and emblazoned across the top in gold letters were the words _A Very Dominion's Christmas_. "Some of you submitted things anonymously," she continued, "and some of you left your names, but they're all so wonderful and they were all so much fun to draw. It's for you—for all of you. It's a present for the store. And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to read some of them to you." She sat back down at the table, opened the book, and began to read . . .

* * *

The 12 Days of Christmas  
by Weyoun

_On the first day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the second day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the third day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: three health inspections, two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the fourth day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: four hundred mislabeled pizza boxes, three health inspections, two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the fifth day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: five Alpha City locations! Four hundred mislabeled pizza boxes, three health inspections, two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the sixth day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: six different kinds of pizza, five Alpha City locations! Four hundred mislabeled pizza boxes, three health inspections, two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the seventh day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: seven identical twin brothers, six different kinds of pizza, five Alpha City locations! Four hundred mislabeled pizza boxes, three health inspections, two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the eighth day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: eight Dominion's t-shirts (one for everyone!), seven identical twin brothers, six different kinds of pizza, five Alpha City locations! Four hundred mislabeled pizza boxes, three health inspections, two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the ninth day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: nine ketracel-white suppliers, eight Dominion's t-shirts (one for everyone!), seven identical twin brothers, six different kinds of pizza, five Alpha City locations! Four hundred mislabeled pizza boxes, three health inspections, two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the tenth day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: ten hardworking Jem'Hadar, nine ketracel-white suppliers, eight Dominion's t-shirts (one for everyone!), seven identical twin brothers, six different kinds of pizza, five Alpha City locations! Four hundred mislabeled pizza boxes, three health inspections, two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the eleventh day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: eleven jugs of tomato sauce, ten hardworking Jem'Hadar, nine ketracel-white suppliers, eight Dominion's t-shirts (one for everyone!), seven identical twin brothers, six different kinds of pizza, five Alpha City locations! Four hundred mislabeled pizza boxes, three health inspections, two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

_On the twelfth day of Christmas, the Founder gave to me: twelve pounds of mozzarella, eleven jugs of tomato sauce, ten hardworking Jem'Hadar, nine ketracel-white suppliers, eight Dominion's t-shirts (one for everyone!), seven identical twin brothers, six different kinds of pizza, five Alpha City locations! Four hundred mislabeled pizza boxes, three health inspections, two Cardassian minions, and the greatest job in the galaxy._

* * *

Christmas Victory  
by Fourth

_Victory is life!  
__Getting the shopping done before Christmas Eve,  
__That is victory.  
__Stringing up the lights before the snow falls,  
__That is victory.  
__Finding the perfect wrapping paper,  
__That is victory.  
__Putting the star on top of the tree,  
__That is victory.  
__Not burning Christmas dinner,  
__That is victory.  
__Finding chairs for all of the relatives,  
__That is victory.  
__Remembering all the words to _The 12 Days of Christmas_,  
__That is victory.  
__Not drinking too much eggnog,  
__That is victory.  
__Telling stories of Christmases past,  
__That is victory.  
__Going to bed before Santa comes,  
__That is victory.  
__Waking up to find the milk and cookies gone,  
__That is victory.  
__Seeing the faces of the children as they open their presents on Christmas morning,  
__That is victory.  
__Victory is life!_

* * *

"There is nowhere I would rather be on Christmas than here, with my good friends Damar and Weyoun, and my beautiful, wonderful daughter, who is the light of my life."  
~ Skrain Dukat

* * *

Deck the Store  
by Weyoun

_Deck the store with Christmas trappings! __Fa la la la la, la la la la!  
__In the boxes, white we're wrapping! __Fa la la la la, la la la la!  
__Even Odo can't expose us! Fa la la, la la la, la la la!  
__Running drugs is such good business! __Fa la la la la, la la la la!_

* * *

Homemade Kanar Nog

("Damar, you didn't leave your name, but we all know this is you.")

_This Terran holiday drink is easy to make, and is made even better by the addition of kanar.  
__Recipe makes 12 servings._

**Ingredients  
**~ 4 cups milk  
~ 5 whole cloves  
~ 2 & 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract  
~ 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon  
~ 12 Terran chicken egg yolks (do NOT substitute Regova or Taspar eggs in an attempt to make the drink more "Cardassian"; they do NOT work)  
~ 1 & 1/2 cups sugar  
~ 2 & 1/2 cups traditional brown kanar (I use my own, but store-bought is acceptable; find a newer vintage, as the older vintages tend to give a bitter aftertaste to the nog)  
~ 4 cups light cream  
~ 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

**Directions  
**1. Combine milk, cloves, 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract, and cinnamon in a saucepan, and heat over lowest setting for 5 minutes. Slowly bring milk mixture to a boil.

2. In a large bowl, combine egg yolks and sugar. Whisk together until fluffy. Whisk hot milk mixture slowly into the eggs. Pour mixture into saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly for 3 minutes, or until thick. Do not allow mixture to boil. Strain to remove cloves, and let cool for about an hour.

3. Stir in kanar, cream, remaining 2 teaspoons vanilla extract, and nutmeg. Refrigerate overnight before serving.

* * *

"Christmas is a Terran holiday. Its origin is religious and ancient. So why should we celebrate it? Well, we do live in Alpha City, which is mainly populated by Terrans. And it seems that Christmas seeps into everything. Christmas has become not just about religion; it's become about love. And goodness. And joy. And it's not only Terrans who embrace this; the Federation doesn't have a monopoly on these things. This time of year, in the dark and the cold, we remind one another that we are the light and the heat, and we make each other bright."  
~ anonymous

* * *

Dominion's Pizza  
by Weyoun

_You had better watch out,  
__You had better not cry,  
__You had better not pout,  
__I'm telling you why:  
__Dominion's Pizza is coming to a location near you!_

_We're making some offers,  
__We're checking the price,  
__We're signing the lease,  
__Oh, this strip mall is nice:  
__Dominion's Pizza is coming to a location near you!_

_We know what you desire,  
__We make our pizzas right,  
__And if do inquire,  
__We might throw in some white!  
__So . . ._

_You had better watch out,  
__You had better not cry,  
__You had better not pout,  
__I'm telling you why:  
__Dominion's Pizza is coming to a location near you!_

* * *

"All I want for Christmas is Kira Nerys."  
~ anonymous

("Father I just couldn't resist drawing you staring at Kira again . . ."

"Now Ziyal, how do you know I wrote that?"

"Really Father, it's obvious. And you should have typed it if you're going to use that excuse; I recognized your handwriting.")

* * *

"I haven't had this much fun celebrating a holiday since . . . well, I've never celebrated a holiday. Not until Dominion's Pizza came to Alpha City. I like holidays! There should be more."  
~ Weyoun

* * *

The Softly Falling Snow  
anonymous

_The night is quiet  
__save the hooting owl perched  
__high in the tree.  
__Winter nights are always quiet.  
__The hush  
__is one of calm or  
__is it one of anticipation?  
__The stars would burn in the crystal sky  
__if I could see them.  
__The stars shine brighter on winter nights.  
__But a blanket  
__covers the sky  
__covers the ground  
__is covering me.  
__And there is music in the blanket.  
__Music in the hush.  
__I can faintly  
__hear the beauty  
__of the softly falling snow._

* * *

Ziyal closed the book delicately and looked up. She smiled at the people around the break room table, this ragtag bunch of ill-fitting personalities who had become her family. Slowly, she slid the book into the middle of the table. "Thank you," she said softly. "Merry Christmas."

**(AN addendum: The actual eggnog recipe that Damar's is based on comes from allrecipes dot com; it's called "Amazingly Good Eggnog". I've not made it, but I'm sure it's delicious. If you would like to make your own, you don't have to go to the website; you can just follow Damar's recipe—the only difference is (clearly) the kanar. The original recipe calls for rum, if you're into that sort of thing. Happy holidays!)**


End file.
